Ars Gratia Artis
by Nightsmoke
Summary: The Queen has ordered Ciel and Sebastian back to France to investigate the mysterious vanishing masterpiece of van Gogh’s Starry Night Over the Rhone.
1. Chapter 1

All characters © Toboso Yana and Eoin Colfer

_Note: _This was inspired by a discussion thread on the Kuroshitsuji forum a little while ago. I had written my first attempted crossover last week, and it seemed to get a lot of positive feedback. So, I was inspired to so another one, which will probably be my last story like this. In general I don't like to read crossovers and usually don't write them, but, if I'm going to do it I might as well do it right. General spoilers for both series apply. Enjoy!

* * *

**_Ars Gratia Artis _**

**_I.  
_**

"I can't believe we're back here."

Ciel breezed quickly past a mime feigning imprisonment in an invisible box. His excitement for this place was waning, despite however attractive the Champ de Mars may be. The mime stared sadly after him as he walked, a painted tear upon his cheek.

"We were just here a few months ago for that whole Eiffel Tower debacle, for goodness sakes," Ciel griped. "The Queen—the real one—just loves sending us on such troublesome tasks."

Sebastian smiled. "Come now, Bocchan," he said reassuringly, "It shouldn't be so bad this time. Take a moment to see the sights." Ciel glanced up and gave a begrudging, yet compliant sigh.

"Fine. But if we see any flying monkeys we're sailing right back across the Channel."

2.

The Indépendants Gallery had been closed off. Curious onlookers peered over the rope that truncated the flow of visitors, wondering why such a grand exhibition had been cancelled. Upon entering they would have found a splendid show, save for a bare spot on the wall where a certain painting should have been.

"How could it have just vanished into thin air?" Ciel asked, irritated. The Parisian sun was making his mantle quite warm and his small legs ached from walking over cobblestone market streets.

The guard under interrogation shook his head, flustered, his cap swaying from side to side. He spoke English quite well, which saved Ciel the trouble of having his butler translate their entire conversation.

"We had no idea," the guard replied in a light accent. His tone suggested that he was not used to addressing children as professionals, even in this day and age. "Everyone who enters and leaves the Gallery has to go by us. One of us would have noticed certainly, if a painting had left here." He wrung his hands. "_Mon dieu_, Monsieur van Gogh will not be happy about this!"

"You say it was _Starry Night Over the Rhone_ that has been stolen?" Ciel asked, which earned a nod from the guard. "Of all of the people who viewed this exhibition today, was there anyone who appeared suspicious?"

"Not even remotely, Monsieur Phantomhive."

Ciel sighed, doffed his top hat, and said, "I hope you will allow us a look around, Sir. Although he may not look it, my butler is an extremely adept detective." The tall man at Ciel's side gave a courteous smile then, and the guard saw that his eyes were bright red.

"O-of course, Monsieur," he said, removing the rope, furtively thinking that these two were far more conspicuous than anyone else who had entered today. "We would be honored to have your assistance." The pair bowed and made their way into the gallery, like fish into the open mouth of a whale.

3.

Ciel let loose a comfortable sigh, eager to have evaded the glaring afternoon light. Thank goodness he hadn't gotten sunburned. To his left a pair of eyes glowed vermillion in the dimness.

If he wasn't on the Queen's official business Ciel would have stopped to admire the artwork draping the clean walls of the Salon des Indépendants Gallery. The colors were splendid, and the apparent skill something rarely seen in England. Ciel approached the crime scene, where the wall looked rather naked compared to the rest of the room.

"Everything appears to be normal, albeit for the missing painting," Ciel remarked to the black-clad butler at his side, Sebastian Michaelis.

"Yes," he agreed, "to a human's eye. However I will inspect it further."

Ciel ran a gloved hand along the wall and noted that there was still a small layer of dust coating it. The floors were normal; the paintings around the bare patch seemed unaffected by its evident lack of presence. Nothing had been stirred up, and the typical signs of a burglary were completely absent.

Even for an eye as observant as Ciel's, he could not spot anything. The two looked for several minutes, and when nothing showed up, they looked for several minutes more. "Do you see any fingerprints?" Ciel asked his servant. He waited for a moment, but there was no reply. The boy looked over, craning his neck.

"What's wrong, Sebastian?"

The butler didn't respond. A frown creased his smooth brow, and his eyes narrowed to angular claret splits.

"Sebastian?"

He sniffed lightly, like a dog with a scent caught in its nostrils. Almost immediately afterwards he wrinkled his nose in apparent distaste, an expression seldom seen on the demon Sebastian. "I smell something unpleasant," he said finally. "Unfamiliar."

"Which means?"

Sebastian straightened up. "Nothing, I'm afraid. Whoever did this executed a brilliant plan," he exclaimed. "I apologize, Bocchan, but there is nothing here I can do."

Ciel gave a frown of his own, which he knew his butler could see perfectly well in the muted light. "Judging from our previous experiences, Sebastian…you don't think…" he trailed off, not needing to complete his sentence.

"Possibly, this _could_ be the work of an inhuman," Sebastian agreed, "but remember not all phenomena in this world can be explained by something that is Unman. I can do many things, as your butler, but I can't be compared to a God—I'm afraid this case may take some time, even for me."

Ciel exhaled and made a little 'tch' sound through his lips. "Are you done with the lecture, Sebastian?" A faint smile tinctured the demon's features and he inclined his head.

"Pardon me." He took Ciel's hat from him and gently placed it on the boy's head. "We should ruminate over this and return in the morning, Bocchan. I know of a splendid place, the Hospes Lancaster Hotel, which would suit our tastes for the night." At this Ciel's expression brightened considerably, he already beginning to envision a hot bath and a cup of steaming Earl Grey.

After informing the Gallery's manager that they would look further into this case, Ciel and Sebastian departed. In all honesty the young Phantomhive had become quite peeved. It was not everyday that his butler was stumped, he noted with an embarrassed chagrin. He himself was at odds as well—the exhibit's guards had not seen anything, and there were currently no clues. The story was that the painting had simply vanished into thin air, which simply would not do. This would be a good challenge. Whoever had stolen the painting had made no slips.

If this wasn't the work of a nonhuman, Ciel Phantomhive didn't know what was.

_to be continued._


	2. Chapter 2

All characters © Toboso Yana and Eoin Colfer

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_Ars Gratia Artis_

**_II_  
**

Like a polar bear in the snow, sixteen-year old Artemis Fowl felt completely at ease. He was amidst his natural habitat, doing what he did best. But unlike the polar bear, Artemis couldn't have been farther from home. No, his habitat included every place on Earth where riches lay, no matter wherever…or whenever they may occur.

It felt good to steal again, as much as Artemis hated to admit it. This time there had been no security cameras, no wires, and certainly nothing as elaborate as Jon Spiro's headquarters all those years ago. Just the thrill of deception, procuring, and the sweet taste of deftness on the tip of his tongue. They hadn't even needed to bring Diggums along for the ride.

In this case it was not exactly crime, per say, nor a spontaneous act of recidivism. Artemis had a motive, and that motive was art. The Musée d'Orsay was soon set to celebrate the 120th anniversary of van Gogh's _Starry Night Over the Rhone_ with a wonderful exhibit.

The only problem was that the painting was currently MIA, having been stolen mere weeks beforehand.

An anonymous letter had come in after a few days following the van Gogh's disappearance saying that the painting had been destroyed. Artemis, as one of the Musée d'Orsay's main sponsors, could not allow this. As a staunch votary of the arts, he had promised the museum that he would have the painting retrieved in time for its exhibit.

Some of the museum's Board of Trustees had cocked their heads doubtfully at this, but all knew better than to question the great Artemis Fowl II. If he claimed something could be done, then it generally could be.

Which brings us to the present…or should I say, the past.

2.

Artemis was not one for twitches, but at that moment he found his bottom right eyelid sporadically jittering. For once he was unaware of his surroundings, ignoring the Paris cafés, the bubbling fountains, and the smell of French cuisine that permeated the air.

"Captain Short, if our situation is indeed what you are implying it to be, then I will be extremely irked."

Holly would have rolled her eyes if circumstances had not been so dire. "I'll repeat it again just to show you that I'm not _implying_ anything, Artemis," she snapped. "It seems that for some reason, N°1 has left his post. Although he's gotten loads better at this, we still need him to pull us back to the present."

"As much as I would enjoy a stay in 1889," Artemis began, "We really need to get this back to the current Musée."

"Well like it or not, we're stranded here until N°1 returns to the time stream opening," Holly replied. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Butler's shaven head despite the relatively suitable climate outside. The Eurasian man was not one for perspiration, but his sweat had nothing to do with the temperature.

He gazed down at his two diminutive companions. "What do you suggest we do then?" he asked, directing the inquiry more towards his charge.

Artemis brushed back a lock of hair, as black as charcoal, from his brow before answering.

"I had prepared for the worst, old friend," he said, still unduly calm despite the odds. Some would say this was because the graveness of their situation had not hit him yet, but knowing Artemis, that was not the case. He knew perfectly well what would happen if the imp failed to bring them back.

"Fortunately for us, N°1 has gained more experience in transporting living things through time," Artemis continued. "We no longer need to conserve atoms, and we can even take objects with us—clothes for starters." At this Holly flushed dully, remembering the first time they had time-travelled together.

"Since we need to keep our same location, we must remain _in_ Paris having departed _from_ Paris, lest the time portal be opened. Which can be at any minute," Artemis added ominously.

"Anyway, in the case that something should happen on the other end that would augment our stay in the past, I made certain preparations." At this Holly raised an eyebrow.

"What sort of preparations?"

Artemis smiled a wolfish grin, and replied, "When in Rome…"

3.

"I have to admit, I'm impressed," Butler remarked.

Artemis smirked, extracting a pouch full of Francs from his backpack. "Please. This was mere child's play, getting a reservation here. You've seen me do much worse."

"No, I meant at those carved banisters. They're simply stunning."

And they were. The Hospes Lancaster Hotel was an architectural masterpiece. It was not as large as the Hôtel Ritz, but it was just as elaborate. Perfect lodgings for the likes of Artemis Fowl and Domovoi Butler.

"For once I'm not regretting the day Opal Koboi was born," Holly whispered guiltily, shielded, at Butler's ear. Butler cocked his head, and the elf elaborated. "We'd be done for if she hadn't invented that new hologram projector. It doesn't fade for a day at least, unlike the old ones."

The hologram projector had been the key to this whole thing. It had been simple, really, to walk into the Indépendants exhibition, take the _Starry Night_ via cam foil, and replace it on the wall with a hologram. Artemis and Butler would appear as tourists viewing the gallery, entering and exiting empty-handed like all tourists were generally supposed to. A rudimentary task; something that Artemis could have done at age nine even without the aid of the LEP. Robbing the Salon des Indépendants gallery had nothing over _The_ _Fairy Thief._

At the main desk, Artemis produced his Francs and negotiated with the hotel's owner smoothly, in fluent French. Afterwards, an elaborately-dressed bellboy appeared and escorted Artemis and Butler to their rooms. Holly, thankful also that N°1 had eliminated the fairy dwellings rule, trailed behind them with the invisible _Starry Night Over the Rhone _dangling casually at her side.

"They'll still notice the missing painting when the hologram dissolves," Artemis muttered out of the corner of his mouth. It didn't matter really, if the bellboy heard him, since Artemis doubted he understood Gnommish. "By tomorrow evening, ah…what is that vulgar expression those Americans say? 'The shit will hit the fan,' I believe it is. Such a crass idiom, yet very fitting for our predicament."

Butler smiled, though it was unseen in the dim lighting of the corridor.

_to be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

All characters © Toboso Yana and Eoin Colfer

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**_Ars Gratia Artis_**

**_III._**

Although he knew it was a rather rude thing to do in the presence of the bar manager, Ciel yawned. And, although he certainly was tired, his yawn was one that suggested luxury rather than fatigue. The Hospes Lancaster Hotel had proved to be most enjoyable, and the young Phantomhive was still relishing in the lavender bubble bath that he had just taken. It had almost made him temporarily forget about the missing painting case. Almost.

The Paris moon was rising, a pellucid milk-white. All that I need now, Ciel thought, is a nice, relaxing game of chess. With this intention he and Sebastian had gone down to the bar and had asked for a board that he could rent. The bar manager had given Ciel an apologetic look and had dutifully informed him that their only chess board had already been checked out by someone else.

"_Tch_. Who is the current user?" Ciel asked, tapping his cane against the hard marble floor. Luckily for him, most of the hotel's residents had some knowledge of English.

The manager ran a finger down the large tome on his counter, pausing about half-way down the page. _"Artemis Fowl, 7:36 pm,"_ he read.

Ciel blinked, trying to hide his disappointment. The ticking grandfather clock behind the desk told Ciel that it was just barely after eight. "Well, please inform me when Miss Fowl has finished," he told the bar manager crisply. "I will return in one hour."

"No need," a voice spoke from behind them. "I am done."

Sebastian and Ciel turned around to lay eyes on a most peculiar pair. The man was mostly bald, middle-aged, and well over three meters tall. He wore a suit similar to Sebastian's, but in a style that suggested a higher echelon of servitude.

Ciel set his gaze on the one who had spoken. It was a boy, surprisingly, and one not much older than himself. He was also clad in a suit, a dark three-piece that floated on his dreadfully lean body. His hair was coal-black and neatly combed away from his brow. But these things had not caught Ciel's attention so much as the boy's face.

His left eye was a warm hazel color, almost a corn yellow. But the right…was an astonishing shade of blue. Its biting azure, combined with his pallid skin color gave the boy's face an almost vampiric quality. Ciel turned his lone eye, also blue, up to the boy.

"You're Fowl?" he asked skeptically.

The boy with the mismatched eyes smiled faintly. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance. It must be quite a surprise to find a boy with this name—rather uncommon for a Londoner."

"How did you know that we were from London, may I ask?"

"The buttons on your vest are sewn by cross-stitch, which is a common feature of Benson & Clegg," the teenager replied casually. "This also implies that you are of noble class, a successor perhaps. What is your name?"

"Lord Ciel Phantomhive," Ciel answered, and stiffly nodded to his servant. "My butler, Sebastian." Sebastian gave a polite bow, black fringes falling around the sides of his face like leaves on a willow tree.

The boy smiled. "Again, I am Artemis Fowl II, and this," he gestured to the towering man at his side, "Is Mr. Butler." The man gave a nod. The boy's accent was predominantly Irish, but Ciel thought that he heard what sounded like a little of everything thrown into the mix.

However interesting this duo was, Ciel had never been one for small talk. "The chess board?"

"Ah, yes," Artemis replied, holding out a scuffed box. He held it out, but paused.

"Chess can become rather lackluster when you are playing by yourself," he observed. Mismatched irises surveyed Ciel with an undetectable meaning. "How about a game?"

Ciel exhaled and shut his eye for a minute, debating, before opening it and handing his cane over to Sebastian. "Fine."

2.

Like most of the hotels on this particular street, the Hospes Lancaster Hotel sported an exquisite backyard café that was resplendently illuminated by the evening moon. The scent of burning candles wafted through the air. The outdoor café was prickled with guests, since this _was_ the week of the exhibition, after all.

The two boys found themselves a table and began to set up the board. Their butlers shadowed them silently, neither seeming discomforted by having to stand.

"Would you prefer black or white, Lord Phantomhive?"

"I don't really care." Ciel reconsidered, "Black, then."

Once the pieces had been arranged, the game began.

3.

"Hmm, I see you favor the defensive strategies," Artemis mused. They had been playing for a little while, yet neither opponent had managed to make any drastic moves.

That changed, though, when Ciel knocked over one of the white figures. "What kind of a move is that, attacking with your main pieces?" he asked Artemis. "Why don't you use your pawns to move across the board, Master Fowl? That is what they are for."

The other's pupils were large in the dark, eating up his multicolored gaze. "If you want something done you should not rely on the other pieces to do it for you…because they may fail." Artemis knocked over a black pawn then, and it toppled to the board with a hollow plunking sound.

"Tch."

The game went on for a good two hours. A few of the hotel's guests had stopped to watch, crowding around the small circular table as the two played. Someone who didn't know any better would have assumed the two brothers, just from observing the similarities in their looks and playing abilities.

Eventually the number of pieces on the board dwindled, and Ciel found that it took all of his concentration to battle the pale teenager across the table. This was nothing like playing Lizzy, or even the guests that occasionally visited the manor. This boy was good.

"What type of move was that?" Ciel had to ask again, despite himself. "I have never seen that strategy before."

Artemis smiled, his face half-concealed in the shadows. "Let's just say I like to use moves from my predecessors," he replied. No need to say that by _predecessors_ he meant most of the future chess champions of the world. Artemis had invented some of his own moves as well, but those he never executed in public.

"You're exceptionally good, Lord Phantomhive," he began, "but you made your mistake early on, by using up your pawns. By forcing them across the board they've actually worked against you, and your king has been wide open for the majority of the game."

Ciel's eye widened slightly as he saw where Artemis was moving his white queen.

"And when a king is left with no defenses, he can easily be toppled," Artemis stated, setting down his piece.

"Checkmate."

_to be continued..._

* * *

Chapter glossary

_(1) Benson & Clegg- a tailor co. in London._

_(2) In London, Artemis is considered a girl's name. _


	4. Chapter 4

Author's note: sorry for the delay! I've moved a little out of the Kuroshitsuji fandom, but I'll still be updating this, for those of you who are reading.

All characters © Toboso Yana and Eoin Colfer

* * *

**_Ars Gratia Artis _**

**IV.**

The people who had been crowded around the café table slowly dispersed, like fall leaves in a breeze.

"It was a pleasure to be your opponent, Lord Phantomhive," Artemis Fowl said, offering his hand. Behind them, Butler wordlessly began to put the scattered chess pieces back into the box.

Ciel nodded and shook the hand. "Likewise."

The older boy smiled then, noticing that Ciel looked a hair uncomfortable. "Something you would like to add?" he asked.

"Yes, in fact," Ciel answered, meeting the other's heterochromatic gaze without faltering. "Master Fowl. You seem like a…highly intelligent individual. Perhaps you could give me some advice on a matter at hand."

Artemis's eyebrow rose. Nonetheless, he sat back down at the table and steepled his fingers; an invitation for Ciel to continue. "I see. How can I be of service?"

Ciel also took his seat. "I'm actually here on the Queen's business," he admitted. "No doubt you've heard about the missing van Gogh. We're here to retrieve it." No point in talking around it.

"Hmm, that's very interesting," Artemis mused. "But you haven't been able to find any leads yet, am I correct?" The Phantomhive heir scowled, which was all the confirmation Artemis needed.

"We visited the Gallery today, but it proved to be ineffective. The guards noticed nothing out of the ordinary—it appears as if the painting has simply…_vanished_ into thin air."

Artemis smiled internally. He couldn't have put it better himself. "As much as we would like to help you, my butler and I are not remaining in Paris for long," he said smoothly, adding a regrettable tone color his voice. "We've already been here for two days. Our schedule is quite busy, and it's possible that we could be leaving at any time."

Ciel gave a sigh, and looked towards Sebastian for some help. "You cannot tell us anything about the _Starry Night Over the Rhone?"_ Sebastian asked politely. "Surely you must have seen it, since the painting vanished only yesterday."

"We saw it of course, but there appeared to be nothing out of place," Artemis answered. "A beautiful painting, and a shame. Unfortunately there is little I can help you with.

"However," he went on, "If you come across any new information, Butler and I would be glad to help you. We are always up for a challenge." The gleam in his non-analogous eyes proved his point, although not for the same challenge Ciel had in mind. Staring at the Earl, he couldn't help but notice that Ciel Phantomhive bore an uncanny resemblance to his own twelve-year-old self. Artemis was then struck with the queerest feeling that he would see these faces again.

"Thank you, Master Fowl and Butler." Ciel stood up, bid the pair goodnight, and left to retire with his own demon butler.

2.

"Artemis, I think it best if we remain as inconspicuous as possible until N°1 is able to open up the time portal," Butler advised once he and Artemis had returned to their suite in the hotel. Holly was just coming out of the shower room, looking for all the more like a mini ghost with a huge white towel trailing behind her. Her elfin ears had picked up this last tidbit of conversation.

"What did you do now, Mud Boy?" she asked, semi-exasperated. "We're only here to steal _one_ thing."

Artemis chuckled dryly. "No, nothing like that. It appears as if Scotland Yard is already beginning to investigate the van Gogh." The genius gave a sigh, ensconcing himself into a velvet sofa that sat in their suite. "How inconvenient. Honestly, I had hoped that we would be gone by the time that hologram dissolved."

Holly balled her hand into a tiny fist and smacked it into the open palm of the other hand: a universal gesture of humans and fairies alike. "I don't know what N°1 is doing, but when we get home I will certainly _remind_ him of the trouble he's caused us," she said. Her eyes flashed perniciously.

But it was an empty threat, and everyone in the room knew it. No one dared lay a finger on the Hybras warlock, for he had enough magic inside him to effectively crack the planet in two. Besides, considering the debacles of far worse nature that they had endured together over the years, being stuck in the past was nothing. They even had room service.

"Do you really think that boy was involved with the Yard?" Butler asked. Holly still looked confused, but busied herself with zipping into a fresh LEP uniform.

"Well…let me rephrase," Artemis elaborated, holding up a slender finger. "Scotland Yard may be looking into this indirectly, but that child was most likely not affiliated with them." Butler's eyes crinkled ever so slightly at Artemis's use of the word "child."

"We met a young Earl downstairs who is also residing here for the night," the Irish boy explained to Holly. "He was sent by Queen Victoria to uncover the mystery of the vanishing van Gogh and had already inspected the Gallery this afternoon. However, he and his bodyguard have not found anything yet, and requested our help after seeing my cranial prowess at work. They both appear to be extremely ardent on solving the case."

Holly couldn't help but scoff. "Cranial prowess?" she repeated. "What did you do?"

"Nothing really. We just played a game of chess," the boy answered, shrugging his thin shoulders. "I drew out the game for as long as possible—which wasn't too long giving that his strategies were rather amateurish. The Earl was a good player, needs some refining, but he obviously possesses a great intelligence. I also agree that we should remain inconspicuous for the time being," he continued.

Artemis didn't bother speaking in hushed tones. After all, it was his idea to have Holly place a mufflator outside of their hotel room door. Anyone passing by would register the sounds of talking behind the door as something else—perhaps dishes clanking in the kitchen or a running-water sink. Mufflators were only permitted in Section Eight, but Holly had convinced Foaly to let her take one along, just in case.

Said officer ran her hands through her damp hair, ruffling it expertly. "What's the big deal?" she asked. "So a few humans are interested in finding the painting. It's not like they suspect you."

Butler nodded. "True, and they won't find anything. But," he added apprehensively, "I didn't like the look of that bodyguard. There's something not quite right about him—best to be on our toes. Those two look like they'd use any means necessary to solve the case."

"How is this not familiar somehow?" Holly snorted. True, she had not yet met this Earl, but he sounded just like the young Artemis she had first met all those years ago. She turned towards the genius, whose eyes wore a faraway expression, and faltered for a minute. It was the expression that Holly and Butler knew all too well: the face of someone who had a plan.

_To be continued._


	5. Chapter 5

All characters © Toboso Yana and Eoin Colfer

NOTE: I...can't believe I'm finishing this story up after letting it hang for a **year**. I am so sorry, those of you who read! Here are the final two chapters, way too late.

* * *

_**Ars Gratia Artis **_

_**V.**_

"Bocchan, let me undo those buttons for you."

"I can do them myself for goodness sake, Sebastian!" Ciel snapped.

Sebastian blinked once, sighed, and drew his gloved hand back. He smiled softly, all too familiar with the reason for his master's biting irascibility. Ciel Phantomhive was not one to take kindly to defeat.

With pale hands Ciel undid the buttons to his blouse and slipped on his white nightshirt. He sat down on the hotel's bed, but did not go under the covers nor did he blow out the candle on his nightstand.

"Sebastian," the boy began, his tone quiet and noticeably less acerbic.

"Yes, Bocchan?"

Ciel cradled a velvet blue pillow between his arms and looked up at his servant. "I tire of this place. Let's solve this mystery quickly, so that we may return home. I've no doubt our housekeepers have left our place in shambles by now," he said. "What information have we gathered so far?"

"Well," Sebastian began, "We know that our thieves managed to steal the _Starry Night Over the Rhone_ without the guards' knowledge, and that the painting vanished sometime yesterday. To rephrase, the guards only noticed it _gone _yesterday afternoon—the actual time of disappearance could have been hours beforehand."

"Tch. How could someone sneak a canvas of that size out of the Indépendants Gallery _completely_ undetected?" Ciel grumbled, his frustration rising once again. Sebastian didn't respond.

"There appears to be nothing out of place in the Gallery itself," Ciel continued, "So the only conclusion I can draw is that whoever did this executed their plan by means of paranormal methods. Do you recall how Madame Red, with the help of a Shinigami, was able to move from place to place instantly, undetected?"

Sebastian did. "I agree with you, Bocchan, that this may not be the work of a normal human," he nodded, "However, won't this make the case a bit more difficult? The possibilities could be endless."

With a frown, Ciel brought a closed fist to his lips, contemplating. "I want you to check the crime scene one last time," he told his butler. "Do it tonight, and tell me any other things you find once you've inspected the place more thoroughly."

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastian obliged, kneeling before the bed. "I shall get on that right away." And with a swish of his tailcoat he departed via the bedroom window, leaving Ciel with a lovely view of the Parisian speckled sky.

2.

Even in a place like this Butler never let his guard down, Holly observed. As Artemis slept in the hotel's bed the manservant dozed lightly in a chair, his head down and a hand resting inside the pocket of his jacket—ready to pounce, armed, at any sign of movement.

Holly kept this in mind as she tiptoed across the room, trying desperately not to squeak the floorboards with all forty pounds of her weight. Her digital watch pulsed 2:35 in glowing digits, and she was very thirsty. After rummaging around in her pack for a hydrosion shell, a scuffling noise sounded from a corner of the hotel room. It was most likely a mouse, but as a former LEP officer she was trained to suspect even the slightest of disturbances.

Just to make sure that it was nothing more than a curious rodent, Holly listened for the noise again. She reached up to her pointed ears, meaning to cup her hands around them to enable better hearing, and realized…

3.

"Oh? What could this be?" Sebastian asked in mild interest as he held up a black earpiece between his two gloved fingers.

4.

"Are you positive that you did not lose it in the shower?" Artemis asked for the second time that morning. Holly turned to him with multicolored eyes that were slightly bloodshot from spending the remainder of the night searching. The fact that the missing earpiece could have very well fallen out in the Indépendants Gallery didn't bother her as much as the fact that Foaly would have her hide for losing Section Eight equipment. And the fact that she had slipped up. Mentally, Holly cursed herself for being so careless, knowing well that the late Commander Root would never have made such a mistake.

"Would you like me to check for the eleventh time, Artemis?" she rejoined. Even Butler had perused every square inch of their room and had turned up empty-handed. They would have to check the Gallery after breakfast.

The dining atmosphere of the Hospes Lancaster was warm and sunny, patches of light dancing in yellow squares over the clothed tables. To Artemis, however, the yellow light only reminded him of the time portal that N°1 was still failing to open up for their return.

When they arrived downstairs the smell of Parisian cuisine was enough to make them temporarily hold their problems in abeyance. Due to the notion that the time stream could open at any second, and that more and more time was passing, Holly decided to remain with Artemis and Butler regularly. Activating her shield, she hovered over the table as the two ensconced and ate a light meal.

Holly looked up when Artemis broke the silence with a comfortable "Ah," thinking that he was about to suggest or point out something. However, his declaration was not directed towards her, she saw. A young boy and a servant had approached the table. From Artemis's look of recognition, she surmised that this was the Earl he had mentioned the night before. The servant at his side was slim but tall, with an urbane three piece suit and powder-white gloves. As Holly stared the servant wrinkled his nose suddenly, almost as if he had to sneeze.

They sat and introduced polite, yet formal introductions; Holly observed how the boy looked uncannily like a young Artemis, right down to the ice-chip blue eye.

And, just like Artemis, the child spared no time with small talk. "I think we may have a lead on the _Starry Night Over the Rhone,"_ he announced.

Artemis took a sip of his tisane. "Oh?"

"Yes, and we've come to a rather disturbing conclusion," Ciel said, surveying Artemis over steepled fingers, choosing his words. He paused for a moment before going on. "Tell me, Master Fowl. Do you believe in the supernatural?"

"It depends on what field you are describing," Artemis answered. His mismatched eyes were calm, oceanic.

Ciel nodded to his servant. "Sebastian." A folded cloth was produced from the butler's jacket, and Ciel opened it to show what was inside. Butler leaned over to catch a glimpse, blinked, and settled back, exhaling quietly.

"And this is?"

"I was hoping you could tell us, Master Fowl," Ciel frowned. With two fingers, he picked up the earpiece and rotated it. "There is a glowing light winking inside of it."

"Perhaps it is technology," Artemis suggested. "The shape and structure of it looks as if it were to be worn around or inside the ear."

Sebastian spoke quietly. "It was found within the Indépendants Gallery."

"Which leads me to believe, Master Fowl," Ciel continued, "that the culprit has otherworldly sources.

"This device is unlike anything I have ever seen before and has me conclude that the perpetrator may not be…entirely human."

Artemis couldn't have put it better himself. On the inside he smiled; the child had promise.

"After seeing this, which would need a pretty large ear to fit around—"he gestured to the earpiece—"I am inclined to believe the same," he noted.

"You do not seem unduly perturbed by this."

Artemis spread his palms wide. "We live in a world of wonders, Lord Phantomhive," he said. "The possibilities of things are endless, and I am constantly being astounded by society. This is merely one more addition."

_Smooth,_ Butler thought from beside his charge, resisting the urge to grin.

The Earl seemed convinced, and rose to leave. "With this new information, we should be able to track down the culprit relatively soon."

Artemis nodded for emphasis, adding, "As will we. Butler and I happen to be, ah, rather skilled when it comes to mysteries."

Ciel smiled then, and Artemis stared back patiently. He was intrigued, however, since that was a smile Artemis was well acquainted with. It was the smile of all things arcane, the leer of one who has a dirty secret that only they are allowed to know.

"Don't worry, Master Fowl," Ciel reassured. "I happen to have one _hell_ of a butler with me."

5.

When they arrived back at their hotel suite, Holly unshielded and folded her wings against the wall. She was frowning so deeply that her whole face was churned into a mix of dissatisfaction.

"That child is amusing," Artemis was telling Butler. "Maybe one day he'll be like me."

Holly approached them. "Well, we aren't staying to find out," she said.

"Hopefully," Butler murmured.

"No, I mean we need to leave immediately."

"Something wrong, Holly?" Artemis could always read her well. The subtle way her lips pursed and her eyes flashed could write him a story. Her seemingly innocuous words could dictate a novel. He had known her for years and could always tell when the fairy was upset.

"Yes, something is very wrong," she told him. "I'm not quite sure what, but we may be in danger. Something is not right with those two."

"They were odd, true, but so are we, in a place like this," Artemis mused. He saw that Holly's eyes were wide, nervous. "Did something happen?"

"Artemis," Holly said, "That butler smiled at me. He could _see."_

_To be continued..  
_


	6. Chapter 6

All characters © Toboso Yana and Eoin Colfer

NOTE: the final chapter! I hope you all enjoyed this.

* * *

_**Ars Gratia Artis **_

_**VI.**_

"Wait, so it was not human?" Ciel paced the floors of his suite. They had run another scan of the gallery following breakfast, after Sebastian had broken some rather interesting news to his master. "How come I did not see anything?"

"I believe I already mentioned this, Bocchan, but she was using some sort of power to conceal herself."

"So that device must have belonged to this creature, if it had the ability to do such things," Ciel concluded. "And she was with the other two downstairs, which means…"

"Master Fowl must be the culprit?" Sebastian suggested.

"Exactly."

With a victorious glitter in his single eye, Ciel came to a stop in the middle of the room. "Sebastian. When was the _Starry Night Over the Rhone_ reported missing?"

"Two days ago," was the butler's answer.

"But it could have been stolen before then. And how long did Master Fowl say he and his bodyguard had been in Paris?"

Sebastian grinned. "Three days, Bocchan."

"And they have an unidentifiable creature with them, obviously not human, which makes almost anything probable." Ciel raised a fist to his lips, the pieces almost fitting together. "Now all we need to figure out is where they are keeping the painting."

"Bocchan," Sebastian couldn't help but add, "I believe she was a fairy, since her ears were pointed."

A snort escaped Ciel. "Fairy? As in a pot o' gold leprechaun?" He paused, contemplating. "Fowl's accent _was _Irish, if I recall…"

"For someone who has interacted with demons, angels, and reapers, you are quite skeptical," Sebastian observed.

"But _fairies,_ Sebastian? You didn't even know about them."

"True."

"The only thing left to do," Ciel thought aloud, "is to search their room for the artwork. Trespassing would be a very lowly thing to do, so let us confront them directly."

2.

After they had gotten Artemis's room number from the desk manager downstairs Sebastian and Ciel had walked carefully up to the Fowl's suite, now standing behind the door. Ciel rapped his fingers against the oak wood firmly.

"Master Fowl?"

Only silence greeted his knock. Well, almost. A strange…_swishing _noise, for lack of a better description, was coming from within the room. Ciel looked down and saw particles of debris dancing around his feet from the crack under the door. Something was happening inside.

"Sebastian." The butler nodded, reached over, and crushed the pewter doorknob in his hand like he was kneading dough. Without a handle, the door swung open easily.

Ciel walked in just in time to see Master Fowl and his bodyguard disappear into thin air.

There had also been a thing floating at their side—a creature with pointed ears, Ciel observed vaguely. The air seemed to settle, the breeze dissipating as quickly as it had come. They had left nothing in their wake.

Ciel's fists clenched at his sides. "Damn it. Damn it all."

"I guess Bocchan lost this one," Sebastian mused. Ciel whipped his head around, glaring balefully at his servant.

"So what if I did, Sebastian?" he snapped. "I will simply be prepared for the next time we meet. Then I will crush him and show them all exactly who the Phantomhives are." With that being said Ciel straightened the knot of his eye patch firmly and breezed out of the room.

Sebastian chuckled once he had left. Although he didn't sympathize with human psychology, he understood it well. It wasn't just about winning and losing in this case. Ciel and that boy were too similar, right down to the heterochromia. Ciel saw it as a battle with himself; only with an older, more intelligent doppelganger.

It was only a feeling, but Sebastian thought that his young master wouldn't be seeing those two again.

3.

_"Dear Lord Phantomhive,_

_ I surmise that by the time you read this we will be long gone. Please do not think poorly of us, and do not be disappointed. Although you implied that you were on the Queen's business, I do not believe you are with the Yard. Do not fear; I deal with a different kind of underworld than you do, my one-eyed friend. I am slightly older than I look—no demon, though. _

_I was born in 1989, but then lost three years to the time tunnel that you may or may not have witnessed. Although I should be nineteen, I am merely a sixteen-year-old Irish boy with a fairy eye and a slightly larger than average cranium…"_

Ciel finished the letter and put it down with disgust. "Can you believe this, Sebastian?" he asked, gesturing to the parchment.

"I can," Sebastian answered truthfully. "You saw the earpiece. And remember Grell Sutcliffe's deathscythe? It was way ahead of our time."

"No, no, I have no trouble believing in time travel," Ciel sighed. "I am just disgusted, even though it says here why he did it."

"That he outsmarted you?" Sebastian asked, with his usual candor.

"He even provided me with an explanation to give to the Queen as to why the painting is no longer in existence!"

Sebastian closed Ciel's suitcase, indicating that it was time to leave. "Then I suggest we use it don't we, Bocchan?"

_"…even though this may not be my place to say, I will give you a spot of advice, seeing as our paths will never cross again. _

_Lord Phantomhive. You are young and talented, as I once was. Your eyes tell me that you have suffered ineffable hardship, yet they also hold the cruelty of one with unfinished business. Redemption, revenge, power, it is all the same. If you follow that road, you will fail. A demon by your side will give you power and the means to carry out your revenge, but you must not let it corrupt you. I only hope that it is not too late._

_Invest your talents in other things, and you will be happy. Trust me, I know._

_Artemis Fowl II _

4.

_(Present day)_

Mulch scooped the remains of what had almost resembled a sandwich into his oversized mouth. "I missed your cooking, Arty," he mumbled between the food.

He and Holly sat in one of the many rooms of the Section Eight Headquarters. Foaly was on his computer in the far end of the room, as he always was. A blown-up web cam of Artemis filled the screen. It had been little more than a week since the Paris debacle.

"I'm surprised you saved that to eat until now," Artemis smirked, looking at Mulch amusedly through his fairy communicator.

"Better now than never." The dwarf suddenly broke into a two-foot long grin. "I still can't believe you all got trapped in Paris for _three days!"_

Holly sucker-punched his shoulder. "Hey, watch it," she warned, half-joking.

"Because N°1 decided to stop for crepes and got lost!" Mulch hooted.

Holly balled her fists. "Yeah, and if he wasn't so powerful I would have handed him a can of whup-ass."

"A can of what?"

"It's an expression, Artemis."

"The kid's still new to Earth, let alone a big city," Foaly chimed in. "What did you expect? Next time we'll have someone with him to guard the time stream post.

"By the way Fowl, your locator says you are in London."

"Ah, Butler and I decided to take the scenic route after delivering the painting to the Musée d'Orsay," Artemis answered.

"Tell the big guy I say hi, will you?"

"Will do, Foaly," Artemis said as he disconnected.

--

It was rare that he had leisure time these days, and Artemis wanted to make use of it while it lasted. "Butler, I'm going to make a quick stop," he told his bodyguard, gesturing toward a bookshop on the crowded streets of London. Butler, giving his size, would hardly be able to squeeze into the cramped isles bookshops were known to have. He gave a single nod, and Artemis disappeared into the musty, dimly lit shop.

There were only a few select shelves containing material Artemis had not read, but he hid his disappointment. A store of books was next to the most wonderful thing in the world. Well, except for magic, maybe.

"I am aware that there are things in this world that cannot be explained," Artemis said suddenly, "but I daresay I've never seen anyone like you before."

The man across the isle smiled. "It's been awhile, Master Fowl."

It was quite the coincident meeting, but Artemis had seen stranger in his sixteen years. He gave a little bow, placing his hand to his chest. "Not for me, demon Sebastian. I saw you only a week ago."

"When did you find out that I was a demon, may I ask?" Sebastian inquired, a playful light dancing in his eyes.

With an idle hand, Artemis flipped through a random book. "From the moment I saw you," he answered truthfully. "One would have only had to look at the hue of your irises, if they were unfamiliar with the Theban letters imprinted on your gloves. Your counterpart would have had to have those letters printed somewhere on his body as well, hence the eye patch."

Sebastian chuckled, shrugging. "You certainly are an educated human. And yes, I still serve the Phantomhives," he said, before smoothly changing subjects. "Tell me, back then. Was that a fairy by your side?"

"It was," Artemis said. "You live so close to one another, yet your worlds never interact. It's fascinating.

"By the way," Artemis turned, changing the subject, "how did he turn out?"

The butler was about to reply, when—

"Sebastian?"

Artemis smiled at the teenager peeking around the corner. "There you are, Sebastian! I thought I'd lost you. And who's this?"

Sebastian held out a gloved hand to Artemis. "Just an acquaintance, from a long time ago," he said humbly. The youth looked at Sebastian quizzically. Her brown hair was pulled back in a horsetail, and her eyes were china blue.

"Artemis Fowl," Artemis nodded. She smiled, but didn't give her name.

"Come, Sebastian," the girl said. "We should be getting back." Sebastian gave a final bow, turned to leave, but paused as he remembered an unanswered question.

"Let's just say he was beyond help from the moment he met me."

Artemis's shoulders slumped in polite disappointment. "A pity," he said. "He could have been great."

Sebastian smiled lightly. "Oh no, Master Fowl," he shook his head in disagreement. "He was."

As they were leaving, Artemis spotted an odd tattoo on the girl's ankle, as she was wearing a sundress and her legs were bare. It could easily be mistaken for a teenager's fashion statement these days.

He smiled to himself, putting the book he had taken back on the shelf. Some things never got old.

_The End._


End file.
